The Turn of Time
by sense the sarcasm
Summary: So far, what happens right after the 5th bk. but there is more. What happens if Harry is more than 'just' the Boy Who Lived? What happens if he was another, also influencial, figure in history?
1. Chapter 1

The Turn Of Time  
  
Harry wiped his forehead. The black clothes he was wearing sticking to him in the heat, particularly the heavy and dark woollen trousers he was wearing. He shifted inside the clothes that showed the stiffness of newly bought garments. The sun beat down hard upon the dry earth and those standing outside on the sunny July afternoon. Remus Lupin, standing behind Harry, wiped his eyes openly, as he wept at the words of Dumbledore as he finished the memorial for his childhood friend and Harry's godfather. As the only true marauder left, Remus Lupin felt like the last of a kind. His unique - affliction, doubling his anguish. What right had he to live longer than they had? He felt Sirius' parting like a stab in the heart, and a reminder of James' parting more so. His misery was reflected on every face there. Many of the Order had collected for the service, as well as a gathering of bright red heads; the only really bright colour among them. Tonks had even turned her hair black out of remorse and respect, while Moody's magical eye was stationary in a most disturbingly unusual manner. His week at the Dursleys had passed in a daze, though he did notice, and thank, the change in their attitude towards him. It would not do to say they were kind, but they were far less harsh than they had ever been before; all due to the talk that they had had at the end of the school year. He had, only the night previously, moved from the Dursleys house to the Burrow. There he discovered the clothes that Mrs. Weasley had bought for him from his account and drove, using ministry cars, to the station. From there, they took the Hogwarts train on platform 9 ¾ to Hogsmeade. Most of the trip he did not remember, but at the sight of several Thestrals standing next to him infront of a handful of coaches he woke from is daze enough to remember exiting them and walking to the site where they stood now. Hogwarts. One of the places that Sirius had felt was home. There was no burial, as they had no body, nor a cremation. Instead, they held a wizard's funeral, for the essence of his spirit, and for those left behind to say their farewells. Ever since waking that morning, Harry had spoken not a word, but then, hardly anyone else had been speaking much either. That night, some of them would be staying in Hogwarts, while others; many of the Order, would be making their own way home later in the evening. As the silence stretched, but for the sound of quiet tears, shuffling and sneezes from Mungdungus, who had caught a cold while sitting out in the rain, drinking to the memory of Sirius (not that he had needed much cause to drink) clouds started creeping in at an alarming and unnoticed rate. Seeming suddenly to those standing outside, large raindrops started to fall on the parched ground. In a mere matter of minutes, the ground was a fitting resemblance to the marsh that Fren'n'George had left in the East Wing in Gregory Smarmy's corridor. But before it had reached that level, when the first rain drops started to fall, people started to come out of the personal reverie. Dumbledore, raising his wand above his head, muttered a shielding charm against the rain. Professor McGonagall started ushering everyone inside, pointing with the crutch she still had by her side. She did not need it as much any more, and she was healing well. In the cover of the Entrance Hall, many people started to murmur, moving into the Great Hall where the house elves had laid out finger foods for those hungry. Many gravitated towards the table, still murmuring to one another, but Harry, upon the sight of the food, felt his stomach turning over. Hurrying out of the room, before it protested in a more visible fashion, Harry turned to hurry up the stairs to the first floor, which was blissfully quiet. Harry was feeling sick. His head pounded, his heart was gaping and torn, and his stomach was playing a whole quidditch match inside of him. Deciding to turn in for the night, he headed up to his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. But upon his way he saw Remus hurrying along the corridor infront of him. About to call out to Remus, he turned the corner. Running after him, Harry saw him heading to Dumbledore's office. "Prof- Remus!" Remus stopped, and turned slowly. "Harry" his eyes flickered back towards the gargoyle that had sprung aside a moment earlier with the password 'Sugar Quills' "You shouldn't be here. Go back downstairs. Eat something, I know you haven't eaten all day. You need your strength." "I'm not hungry," Harry returned quickly, and truthfully. He hadn't felt like eating much recently, ever since he had left the train station he had gone into a deject depression, hardly eating anything at all. "Harry, you need to take care of yourself, Sirius wouldn't have wanted you to waste away, especially at the thought of him," Remus was hardly fearing better. His skin was sallow and pail, his hair hanging limp and his face was thinner since the last Harry had seen of him. But Harry himself had grown even thinner, as the protruding ribs beneath his shirt proclaimed. Harry looked away from Remus, avoiding his eyes. "I know," his voice a whisper, almost inaudible. "Remus, so do you. You need to take care of yourself as much as I do. I know your spending your time in Grimmauld Place, or on a mission. Your going there tonight." It wasn't a question. Remus recognised that. It was then his turn to avoid Harry's eyes. "Yes," he spoke to the floor. "I'm coming with you" Remus jerked his head up, but quickly looked away when he met Harry's eyes. He did not bother with fruitless attempts of protests. He simply nodded dimly, and finally walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. The silver ornaments were tinkling quietly on the tables, and there were noticeably fewer of them then when Harry had walked into the office. Upon closer inspection, the ornaments missing seemed to be the ones that happened to have broken in the meeting between Harry and Dumbledore at the end of the school term. Passing these, and ignoring the loud snoring in the paintings around the room, Remus strode over to the large fireplace, and threw in a rather large pinch of Floo powder. "You first Harry." His voice was quiet, subdued almost. Harry stepped forward up to the fireplace. Here it was - he could go anywhere he wanted. Anywhere connected to the Floo network that is. But then - that was pretty much everywhere, or in walking distance of it at any rate. Stepping forward, he entered the fireplace, and spoke, clearly articulating the words before tucking in his elbows. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place" the fireplaces whizzing past him started to upset his stomach again in the second he had not shut his eyes. Fighting to not upheave his stomach, Harry fell out of the fireplace and onto the floor with a thump, unable to cushion his fall with his hands. A large squawk of outrage met his ears and he looked up just in time to see Kreacher scurrying out of the room. With an angry bellow, Harry raced out after him into the hall. He saw the animal babbling crazily to the painting of Sirius' mother. At that moment she looked up, and seeing him, pointed her finger at him and started to shriek out insults, and commands at Kreacher to remove the 'abomination' daring to soil her house with its presence. Happy to oblige, Kreacher scampered forward. At that moment, a red light shot from over Harry's shoulder and hit the house elf, leaving him lying immobile on the ground. Remus walked forward and, ignoring the screaming portrait, walked up the stairs, leaving Harry with a Stunned house elf and a Dark abhorrent portrait in the entrance hall of the house of his late godfather. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Turn of Time 02  
  
Half an hour later, Harry was lying in Sirius' old bedroom. Remus was still feeding Buckbeak upstairs in his mother's bedroom. Why did Sirius have to die? He wasn't meant to die yet, Harry was supposed to come and live with Sirius after his education while he was training to be an Auror! So soon after Harry had discovered that he had family, it was gone, lost. Slipped through his fingers, leaving in its wake memories that hurt to think about now, however happy they were. Harry's sorrow was swallowing him, like a gaping black hole, with no escape. That was, until a large crash broke his solitude. With a start, Harry looked up, to see Kreacher, laying next to a large ornamental dagger, picking himself up from the remains of an ugly bulky black vase. Kreacher, now upright, saw Harry, and with a shout to 'Destroy the abomination' rushed at Harry. The effect was somewhat abated by the fact that he had to crawl up the bed to reach Harry, but not by much. Harry, realising what was happening, got out his wand, and shouted a spell at the elf. "Expellarmus!" when the knife went flying across the room, and the elf hit the wall with a large crack. It sounded like something had broken, but Harry didn't care at the moment. He stunned the elf. It was disgusting, that this despicable thing had caused his only family to die. Why didn't he kill it right now? This house elf was the reason why Sirius died! Almost scared of what he would do if he stayed in the same room as Kreacher, Harry turned his heel and ran from the room, somewhere further upstairs, and to the left. He came to his senses standing at the end of a dark hall, with only a dim light from behind him in the main part of the house round the corner lighting his way. Infront of him was a door. Studying it closely, you could tell, it wasn't one of the normal doors you would get in a muggle house. The boring plain ones, with four pannels on them, two top, two bottom. But it was more gothic, black, and shadowy. It had a head of what looked like part gargoyle part dragon, part ugly monster thing with wings around its head and part something Harry did not want to study to closely. Even he have limits to what he could take. Harry tried to open it. 'Try' being the main word. Curious now, as all the other rooms in the house had been unlocked, even though some really nasty things had been behind them, including a medieval muggle like torture chamber in the cellar, still splattered with blood and - other things. Still holding his wand, he pointed it at the door, using the standard unlocking spell to unlock it. Nothing happened, and he tried again, with another opening spell, "Effrigo!" sweeping his wand and jabbing it sharply at the door, which did not open. Frustrated now, he tried again, with a larager, and harder jabbing motion. "Patefacio!" And again, this time, with a more general opening gesture. "Expositus!" but it did not work. Futilely seemingly he tried one last obscure spell, which he had come across in one of the books in the requirement room. "Patesco," dimly he watched as nothing happened, and turned away from the door, in disappointment. Stepping forward, his foot caught on something, which rolled from under his foot, causing him to fall. Putting his hands out infront of him, he dropped his wand, his leg shooting out behind him and whacking against something that gave way. Scrambling up onto his hands and knees, he searched quickly about for his wand. It reminded intensely of that night in Little Whinging when his cousin and he were beset by Dementors, which had got away from ministry control. But, thankfully, this time his wnad found its way to his hand, his fingertips brushing up against its smooth length. "Lumos," a soft light filtered out of his wand tip, lighting up the small area around him. By his knee, in the wand light, he spotted what had caused his fall. Lying there on the ground, still gently rolling, was the cone of the torches used to light the hallways. Dejectedly turning away, meaning to find Remus and tell him he was ready to reutrn when Remus was, he saw a darker black stripe amid the already black surroundings. Pointing his light towards it, he saw what had caused it. remembering then, that as he had fell, something had given way to his leg, he realised what it had been. Somewhere in his spell casting, the door had been unlocked, and as his foot hit it, had pushed it open. Holding his wand out ready infront of him, he pushed open the door. 


End file.
